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“Oh, my! You are quite severe on the young woman,” cried the elder sister, her hand on her ample bosom. “Do I hear you correctly, dear sister? Are you hoping our brother and Miss Bennet might fall in love? What happened to your favorite wish for an alliance between Charles and young Miss Georgiana Darcy?”

“Oh, Louisa. You know that I want Charles to marry Georgiana. Just think of what such an alliance will mean for our entire family’s standing.” Miss Bingley did not need to say more to her sister. Although her sister had married a gentleman, Mr. Hurst was nothing at all in Miss Bingley’s estimation. A gentleman with little wealth and no true connections to speak of, her sister’s alliance had barely opened doors to the Bingleys. Indeed, it was Charles Bingley’s friendship with the heir of Pemberley, the nephew of the Earl of Matlock, that had done that.

Continuing her speech, Miss Bingley said, “The last thing in the world I would ever wish for is an alliance between our family and the likes of the Bennets. In fact, I would move heaven and earth to prevent such a prospect. But that does not mean that I cannot pretend to like Miss Bennet and encourage Charles to entertain her, for lack of a better word. I likened it to killing two birds with one stone, if you will. Mr. Darcy will see that young woman for the mercenary that she is and send her on her way long before our brother is in any real danger from her.”

Mrs. Hurst smirked. She could not have been more pleased with the prospect her sister proposed, for one way or the other she was bound to be thoroughly entertained. Her sister was dogged in her pursuit of Mr. Darcy, and now she had real competition.

Meanwhile, Bingley was unusually quiet, going so far as to move away from the other gentlemen drinking port and enjoying George Darcy’s finest cigars. His mind was down the hall. His thoughts, on the angel with whom he had just had the pleasure of dining. How lovely he thought she was. No lovely was not the word. Miss Bennet of Longbourn was absolutely divine. He could hardly wait to return to the drawing room and resume his ardent attentions toward her. As he was wont to do when in the face of such a beautiful creature, he had made it a point of singling her out even though oddly enough, his friend Darcy also paid a great deal more attention to her than he was wont to do under such circumstances. Bingley surmised that Darcy was merely acting the part of the gracious son toward his father’s guest.

Miss Bennet is not the type of young woman who might garner Darcy’s notice, Charles Bingley reminded himself. On the other hand, she is precisely the sort of woman who is destined to capture my heart with her lovely angelic smiles, her poise, her grace and her charms. It shall be a great pleasure getting better acquainted with her.

“You are rather reserved this evening,” said Darcy, approaching his friend’s side with two snifters in hand. He handed one to Bingley. “Do I even need to ask what you are about?”

Bingley took a sip of his drink. “I am afraid you know me all too well. I have been meditating on Miss Bennet’s angelic eyes. I do believe she is the most beautiful creature I have ever beheld.”

Beyond a nod and a smile, Darcy said nothing.

“Her sister is very pretty, and I dare say exceedingly agreeable.”

Here again, Darcy said nothing.

“Pray, do not tell me you disagree with me.”

“Very well, I will not.”

Not certain what to think of his friend’s reticence to speak on a matter for which there could be no opposing opinion, Bingley cried, “My goodness man, I would not be so fastidious as you are for a kingdom!”

What was Darcy to say in the face of his friend’s rebuke? That he agreed with his assessment of the younger Bennet daughter? How fair would that have been to her sister, Bingley’s unabashed espousals aside? The moment Darcy had laid eyes on Miss Jane Bennet, one of his first thoughts was how his friend Charles Bingley would think her the perfect angel. It did not go unnoticed by Darcy that Bingley had singled out Miss Bennet as the object of his admiration the instant she walked into the room with her sister, Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

Upon joining the women in the drawing room a little while later, it was all Darcy could do not to stare at the younger of the two Bennet sisters. It simply would not do. He had promised to make amends for what the elder might have perceived as a slight on his part toward her, upon first greeting her earlier that day. He knew he would have no luck attending to Miss Jane Bennet, so long as her younger sister was in proximity, and thus he was grateful when his father approached the two ladies to claim the arm of the older and proceeded to place her directly in Darcy’s way.

Fortunately for Darcy, his friend lost no time in joining the two of them once Darcy’s father took his leave, thus allowing Darcy to play the part of the dutiful son with very little trouble to himself. As beautiful as Miss Bennet was, in Darcy’s estimation she simply smiled too much, reminding him of many of the young women whose eager mamas actively paraded before him whenever he was among society. He wished he could say that Miss Bennet’s conversation was vastly superior to the other young ladies of his acquaintance, but indeed he could not for he hardly attended a word she said. Thank heavens for his friend Bingley, who was just the sort of amiable fellow who could easily carry a conversation, and who talked enough for both of them.

This situation allowed Darcy to contemplate another couple in the room: his cousin the colonel and the lovely Miss Elizabeth. Her manners, although not those of the fashionable world, captivated him by their easy playfulness. How he wished to be sharing in their conversation that he, too, might be the recipient of her teasing smiles.

I must not think this way.

CHAPTER 8

UNSISTERLY-LIKE SENTIMENTS

Elizabeth did not know much about the two Bingley sisters, but she was well on her way to disliking the two of them very much. Just the thought of Miss Caroline Bingley and Mrs. Louisa Hurst cast a pall on her spirits. The last thing she meant to do upon rising so early that morning was to waste time dwelling on those two. She meant to explore the lovely paths and thoroughly acquaint herself with those that no doubt would be among her favorites. Despite the colonel’s chivalrous good intentions the evening before, she also did not mean to accept his offer to walk with her, at least not during her first outing of the morning. What with everything around her being so exciting and new, she meant to relish her each and every discovery wholly unencumbered by those civilities that being an engaging companion entailed.

Perhaps, I shall have an opportunity to tour the grounds with the colonel later today.

As much as she wanted to think of something else, the matter of the Bingley sisters haunted her. The manner in which the two of them proceeded to fawn all over Jane when the gentlemen rejoined the ladies somehow rang insincere. It almost seemed as though they meant to encourage their brother to admire Jane by frequently engaging him in their conversations.

Elizabeth hoped she was worrying for naught. But just in case her worry was warranted, she meant to warn Jane to be extremely circumspect where those two ladies were concerned. Not that she had not tried the night before, but it was not in Jane’s nature to think meanly of anyone nor to suspect that the face a person presented to the world was contrary to his or her true character.

After walking along for a time, relishing in what felt like her own private sanctuary, Elizabeth looked at her watch. Much to her dismay, she had walked longer than she had intended. Much longer, she considered as she spun round on her heels and proceeded to return to the manor house.

What will the Darcys think of me, should I fail to make an appearance at breakfast this morning? Exploring the grounds had occupied her so thoroughly that upon coming to a fork in the wooded path, Elizabeth was not entirely certain she knew which direction would lead her back to where she meant to be.

She was just about to strike out on the path to her left when the sound of horse steps drew her attention. Turning, she espied Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. She knew not whether he was simply out enjoying an early morning ride or if he had come in search of her. He dismounted. Taking the horse by its reins in his gloved hand, he stopped a short distance from where Elizabeth stood and bowed slightly.

“Miss Elizabeth,” said the gentleman, his melodic voice accompanied by his brooding stare which sent a frisson of anticipation through her body.

All too aware that these were the first two words he had uttered to her since making his acquaintance, Elizabeth’s stomach fluttered a bit. She did not dare admit how the sound of his voice made her quiver inside. Besides, to whom would she make such a telling confession? Certainly not to Jane. He was, after all, Jane’s prospective suitor.